How Utterly Uncouth!
by Anaela loves who
Summary: A lovely story starring the prettiest, sweetest, couthest little girl EVER [Narcissa Black, in case you didn’t know] on her very UNcouth 1st day of school, dealing with dirty, common mudbloods and her nasty idiot cousin Sirius. ONESHOT


A/N: Something a little different to what I've written, not a romance, but an all out comedy. Just to save my ass before everyone starts pointing it out, **I know that Narcissa and Lucius are a lot older than Lily and MWPP, but for the purposes of my fic, I had to disregard that.** Capeesh?

Good!

Anyway, this story is about Narcissa, and I _know_ you'll love her because she really is the sweetest, prettiest and couth-est girl out there, possibly in the whole wide world. So go on, and bask in her glory. You know you want to.

_

* * *

DEFINITION OF "UNCOUTH:"_

_1. Crude, unrefined.  
2. Awkward or clumsy; ungraceful_

_3. Lacking refinement or cultivation or taste; "he had coarse manners but a first-rate mind"; "behaviour that branded him as common."_

_4. Anything Narcissa Black does not approve of._

-

"Good morning, Narcissa," a tall, blonde boy said in passing.

"Good morning, Lucius," the small, similarly blonde girl replied, in the same snooty air she had used when telling off a girl who _'accidentally'_ touched her pretty silver ribbon in their dorm that morning; when she complained to Professor Dumbledore at breakfast that she couldn't 'eat that nasty, sour grapefruit, it did absolutely nothing for her lovely porcelain complexion, and wasn't there any less acidic alternative' or when she had to double back and say the password ("Quicksilver") to that icky, uncouth mildewy stone wall (honestly, would a _Scourgify_ kill anyone?) to get her spare nail file that she left in the Slytherin Common Room.

Mummy wanted her little girl to look her best on her first day of school at Hogwarts. And Bella said that they didn't care what you did in History of Magic, as long as no one noticed, so she had decided to give her nails a nice going over.

Narcissa, of course, _did_ have a reputation to look after.

"_That_ was _Lu_cius _Mal_foy," Narcissa said primly to no one in particular, patting the flawless platinum blonde spirals in her two perfectly symmetrical pigtails tied up with her pretty silver ribbons. She looked around to see if anyone was listening.

Oh. It was that plain, uncouth girl with dirty blonde hair that had touched her pretty silver ribbon earlier that morning by _'accident'_. Narcissa remembered that mummy had said yesterday on platform 9 ¾ that her name was Mela Smerkfern, and she was from one of the oldest wizarding families, and even if she wasn't that particularly pretty, or interesting, or couth, she should try to make friends. Deciding, like always, to do what mummy said, Narcissa treated Mela Smerkfern with a sickly sweet smile (the one she always gave to daddy when he bought her a particularly expensive present) in a way of inviting her to stand next to her.

Mela grinned back (something mummy said was neither ladylike nor couth) and skipped over to Narcissa, her hands clasped behind her back.

"_I'm_ Narcissa Black. _That_ was Lucius Malfoy," Narcissa repeated, just to make sure Mela Smerkfern had heard her. Deciding that the impressed look on Mela's face wasn't _quite_ impressed enough, she patted her flaxen locks once more and added: "He's a third year, and _we're_ arranged to be _married_."

Narcissa's smiled smugly as Mela 'ooohed'. Much better.

"How romantic," Mela replied, eyes gooey. Narcissa's smile became a little smugger.

"Yes," she continued. "He's from one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain. And he's very ri-"

Narcissa halted. Mummy always said 'rich' was a very common word, and 'wealthy' was much more agreeable. "He's very wealthy," she corrected herself gracefully. Mela continued to look impressed.

"Wow," she breathed.

There was silence. Mela continued to smile at Narcissa vaguely. _I hope she doesn't think I actually like her_, Narcissa though to herself worriedly.

"Do you like my fan?" Narcissa asked suddenly, pulling out her lovely silver fan decorated with the lovely green snakes. She waved it about, its silver sparkles attracting the attention of two other Slytherin girls.

"It's beautiful," Mela gushed, as the two other girls wandered over – Narcissa recognised them to be some of the other girls who shared her dormitory with Mela.

"Stunning," said one girl.

"How positively fetch," the other said. "Where did you get it from?" Narcissa frowned. Fetch? That sounded common.

"I beg your pardon?" Narcissa asked, icily polite, in a manner mummy would have said was very couth.

"Fetch," the other girl repeated, rolling her eyes. "The older girls say it, like my sister in forth year. It means 'groovy'- " (Narcissa grimaced.) "- only a lot more refined. Why, didn't you know?" the girl added with a rather uncouth smirk.

Narcissa stiffened. Was she _mocking_ her? Did that girl _actually_ think she was better than she was? Of _course_ she knew fetch! _Everyone_ knew fetch! (except for maybe Mela) Bellatrix often said it! Narcissa had just forgotten for a moment, that was all.

…Honestly.

"Of course I knew," Narcissa snapped in possibly her snootiest voice yet. "And _my_ sister, _Bellatrix_, is a _sixth_ year, so _I_ know _everything_ like that. What's _your_ name, anyway?"

The girl smiled coolly "My name is Letitia Avery," she said delicately. Narcissa's scowl softened.

Hmm. So she was an Avery, another good family of wizards. Narcissa remembered what mummy had said about making friends with powerful families, and Narcissa certainly didn't want to make her and daddy upset by making enemies with an Avery.

But she certainly wasn't going to allow Letitia Avery walk away and think she was better than a Black.  
Because she certainly wasn't.

Perish the thought.

Mainly to make herself feel better, Narcissa looked at the two girls. The one who had said her fan was stunning didn't really concern her – she had mousy brown hair and rather common hazel green eyes, so she wasn't really a worry. But Letitia Avery, on the other hand, had very long dark brown hair and very deep violet-y coloured eyes – although, (Narcissa noticed with glee) she was rather bony and had nasty, common sun-tanned skin and a dusting of _very _uncouth freckles.

Well that worked out nicely, then.

Feeling slightly more confident and superior (which was saying something), Narcissa patted her golden hair once more and made an effort to smile sweetly at Letitia Avery.

"Well, I'm Narcissa _Black_," Narcissa Black reminded them all, yet again, superciliously, relishing the quickly receding smirk on Letitia's face, "And Lucius _Malfoy_ gave me this _when we were arranged to be married this summer_." Narcissa smiled in satisfaction as Letitia and the other girl (she remembered, was Adela Llewellyn) took on expressions of deep respect.

"Lucius Malfoy? The tall boy that just walked past a moment ago?" Adelia Llewellyn asked in an uncouth, wishy-washy, breathy sort of voice.

"Yes," Narcissa replied smugly.

Mela added: "He walked this way just so he could say hello to Narcissa."

Narcissa decided that she liked Mela very much.

"You're very lucky, Narcissa! He's ever so handsome," Adela sighed in a wistful voice. Narcissa noticed with wicked satisfaction how _uncouth_ Letitia looked _when she was jealous._

"Yes," Narcissa said airily, putting her lovely silver fan back into its special place in her bag, "I suppose he _is_ very handsome, isn't he?" In truth, Narcissa hadn't really dwelled on Lucius' good looks. In fact, she didn't really pay any attention to anyone's looks, apart from her own, of course, and really only looked at girls' or young lady's faces to make sure she was the prettiest girl in the vicinity.

She remembered the talk she had been having with mummy and her sisters when their marriage had been arranged. Bellatrix had asked Narcissa if she thought Lucius was handsome, and Narcissa had politely said that she was not sure (mummy said it was uncouth to shrug.) and she didn't really care what _anyone_ looked like, just as long as they weren't prettier than her.

At this, Bellatrix had giggled with endearment, and mummy had smiled and hugged the two of them, saying how proud she was of her two precious angels.

Andromeda, her _other_ sister, had excused herself from the room with a hacking cough.

"So is he your boyfriend, then?"

Narcissa looked around. It wasn't Mela, Letitia or Adela who had asked. It was a girl with red hair. She was standing alone on the opposite wall of the hallway leading down to the dungeons where they would take their first potions class. Narcissa remembered she had walked down with a group of four rowdy Gryffindor boys and she was now standing apart from them, looking a little left out. She must have been listening in on their conversation.

How rude. And uncouth.

"Well – no – " a confused Narcissa replied, being caught off guard. She turned back to her 'friends'.

The red haired girl, not getting the hint, persisted. "I don't understand… If he's not even you're boyfriend, then why are you going to marry him? And you're a bit young, too, don't you reckon?"

Narcissa stared at the girl with her mouth hanging open, and closed it quickly when she remembered that mummy said that it was a very uncouth thing to do. She instead glared at the puzzled girl. Didn't she know _anything_? "We're _arranged_ to be married," she said condescendingly, as if it explained everything. "You know… engaged? Affianced? Betrothed?"

Narcissa shook her head with disgusted incredulity as Letitia muttered "What's wrong with her?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," the girl replied coolly. "I just think arranged marriages are pretty old fashioned, that's all."

Narcissa gasped in outrage. How _dare_ she, the nasty, uncouth, _foul_ little piece of cretin dung!

_Blink. _

…Droppings.

No, excrement. Cretin excrement.

"For your information," Letitia informed the girl in a poisonously silky voice, "Arranged marriages happen to be a wizarding tradition dating back to the Middle Ages."

The girl with the red hair muttered a sheepish "Oh." She looked at the ground, blushing.

Narcissa looked at the girl with cold grey eyes. Mummy had always told her that green eyes were very unsightly and uncouth, and this girl had the greenest eyes she had ever seen. Her hair was a particularly horrible shade of red, very loud and… lurid. It looked simply ridiculous, a _human_ having it for a _hair colour_, of all things. And mummy had always said that red was a nasty, common, unsavoury colour, and was only ever found on the heads of miserable, unclean, unworthy blood-traitors –

_Bing. _

"Are you a Weasely?" Narcissa sneered. The girl looked up quickly, and shook her head, bemused.

"Oh, she's not a Weasely," Letitia said spitefully, glaring at the girl with dislike. She looked at Narcissa meaningfully.

A very ugly look passed over Narcissa's face. "What's your name?" She asked darkly.

"Lily Evans," the girl said, finally looking away from the floor and holding her chin up high.

Evans. Didn't ring a bell.

_Gasp._

That meant only one thing –

"Mudblood," Letitia muttered, malice lining her tones.

Narcissa's eyes widened – she'd only thought she was a half-blood! – and she pressed a hand to her rapidly rising and falling non-existent bosom. Her? Mudblood? Talking to a _Black? _Narcissa let out melodramatic shriek that carried all the way down the hall to the other first year students.

"You… YOU…" Narcissa spluttered to find suitable words. "UNCOUTH!" She finally screeched, pointing a French-manicured index finger at the Evans-girl. She raised an eyebrow in return.

"Do – do – _do you know who I am_?" Narcissa asked the girl, slightly hysterical, poking herself in the chest. A great portion of the other students looked around to see who was introducing herself so insanely.

"Narcissa Black," the girl muttered, looking as if the blonde was an escaped mental patient. "You only mentioned it about a ten times."

They had the undivided attention of most of the potions class now. The Gryffindor boys had stopped their roughhousing, and were watching the developing predicament shrewdly. One with black hair stopped pushing around his bespeckled friend, and was studying her closely, his face very still and unreadable.

"That's right!" Narcissa yelled shrilly, her face turning pink. "And the Blacks have a completely _pure_ blood line that dates back _all_ the way back to when the _Celts_ still lived in Britain! We branch off from the Le Fay line! And," Narcissa screeched, stamping her foot on the ground in fury, making the girl step back hastily, in fear of being incinerated by the jets of fire that might shoot out of her eye-balls, "It's filthy mudbloods like_ you_ who destroy the pure bloodlines that –" (she stamped her little foot for emphasis) "– we –" (and again) "– work –" (yet again) "– so –" (etc) "– hard – to – keep – PURE!"

What remained of any chatter that had been taking place in the dungeon hallway died out. All Gryffindor and Slytherin eyes were now fixed on the pink-faced blonde vixen and the shamefully blushing red head. Lily blinked hard to get rid of her held back tears. Narcissa, on the other hand was always the little drama queen, so she threw her head back, gluing the back of her hand to her forehead in the process, swooned quite convincingly in a fluttery high voice, and fell back gracefully in the direction of a gaggle of Slytherin boys.

Narcissa opened her battering eyes, trying to look as cute as possible. "Oh, help me up," Narcissa snapped grumpily when she saw that it indeed was _not_ Seth Beaufort and Tristan Pierpont that had caught her, but merely Mela and Adela.

Bother.

"You better watch who you call filthy, Narcissa."

Narcissa looked to the speaker, her grey eyes viciously suspicious. It was nasty cousin, Sirius. He was looking at her with uncharacteristically sensible eyes, his hand was resting on Lily's shoulder (who looked slightly disgusted by this seemingly friendly gesture) and his mouth was reduced to a grim line.

Narcissa glared. Oh, she'd call who ever she _liked_ filthy.

"Just because you're a Black doesn't mean you're royalty.

_Blink_ …Yes it did! What was he trying to do, say she _wasn't_ a princess? How _dare_ he!

"It's time you realise that all of the pure-blood mania is hippogriff puke. It's not blood that counts, its talent."

_What on earth was he talking about?! _

"Oh, come on Narcissa, say something!"

Narcissa regarded him imperiously. She had been owled very explicit orders, after the word travelled had around that Sirius was a _Gryffindor_. "Mummy says I'm not to talk to you," she said prudishly. A few people giggled. Narcissa ignored them.

Sirius goggled at her for a moment, and then snorted. "Oh, _mummy_ said that, did she? Honestly Narcissa, I don't believe you! No, wait, you know what?" he said, looking down at his huffing cousin, "How 'bout _you_ tell your _mummy _from me to get her broom and shove it up her – "

Narcissa let out a scandalised gasp and clapped a hand to her mouth dramatically.

How utterly uncouth!

Oooh, she knew he was no good from the _start_, sneaking out into muggle London and playing in parks with horrible, ugly uncouth muggle-filth, dropping dung bombs on her and Bella, being such a beast to Auntie like that, no wonder he wasn't in Slytherin, the nasty, horrid, uncouth piece of scum!

"I'm glad you aren't in Slytherin!" Narcissa shrieked, pointing at her cousin. "You muggle loving mudblood… _lover_! Ohhh," she lamented weakly, and slapping at Mela with a considerable amount of strength and pointing to her bag, "Fan me, I'm feeling faint." Mela hurriedly obliged. Narcissa let out a shuddering little high pitched moan and closed her eyes. Adela began to pat her cheek.

Sirius snorted at her. "Hey this is my – listen to me, you pansy! – Lisa here – "

"It's Lily," Lily corrected him indignantly.

"…whatever – is my _friend_!"

The Evans-girl looked at him incredulously. "No we're not! I just followed you to class, and you completely ignored me!"

Sirius paid her no attention and continued. "Lily is my friend, and if you _ever_ give her any trouble, you'll have _me_ to deal with."

"I can deal with things myself!" Lily snapped and stomped off towards some inviting Gryffindor girls. Sirius didn't seem to notice.

"At least my friends are _pure_!" Narcissa snapped, standing up quickly. She remembered that she was supposed to be feeling faint, so she slumped back down into Mela and slapped at her so that she'd keep fanning her with her lovely silver fan.

Sirius snorted. "You call her a friend? She looks like your servant!"

"Mela here happens to be my very best friend in the whole wide world!" Narcissa informed him, very childishly. She was dangerously close to throwing a temper tantrum, but of course she wouldn't, because mummy said it was uncouth. "You don't know _anything_ Sirius!"

Sirius rolled his eyes at her maddeningly. "I think you're getting a little confused there, Narce."

This statement took a while to register in Narcissa's brain that it was an insult. By the time the tittering had stopped, it had only finally clicked, so when she at last reacted, the students began to laugh in earnest.

"Oh Sirius, you're nothing but a nasty, common, horrid, _putrid_ blood traitor! No wonder you're a Gryffindor!"

Sirius threw his hands up into the air in triumph, as if he'd just discovered penicillin, encouraged by the amusement of his pears. "Finally! She understands! It's a miracle! Thank you!"

Narcissa scowled crossly. He _didn't_ know anything! "That's not a compliment! Being in Gryffindor is shameful! And I've had enough of the dirt coming out of you mouth," she said furiously, her scowl deepening when Sirius laughed harder, and she pointed her wand at him. "_Scourgify_!"

Narcissa had often dreamed of washing out Sirius' mouth; how she'd cackle mercilessly while he'd choke and beg, suffocating on her conjured, deadly suds… _"No Narcissa… Stop Narcissa… Have mercy Narcissa…" _She'd fantasise about this when ever he got away with another of his smart comments, or poked his tongue out at her.

However, a spurt of liquid soap squirting out from the end of her wand and piddling onto the floor in a puddle at his feet didn't _quite_ have the effect that she'd been hoping for.

There was a moment when Sirius gazed at her incredulously and Narcissa's face turned blank. Then, Sirius was doubled over in laughter, along with all of the other Gryffindors, who were wheezing and shrieking with laughter. Even a few Slytherins were hiding sniggers.

Narcissa looked about wildly – this was not good.

She had broken her very first rule. She – _gasp_ – had allowed herself to appear – brace yourself, now – _below_ her usual standard of sophistication and couth-ness.

Oh, this was not good at all.

_Choke_. What if _mummy_ found out?

Oh – _no_.

"Shut up – shut up – _shut up_ – SHUT UP!" Narcissa screeched, jumping hard on her feet with every 'up'. This only caused the crowds to laugh harder. Burning white with rage and humiliation, she looked at her wand feverishly, wondering how far she could shove it up Sirius' nose (it wasn't very couth, but she was sure that if mummy ever found out, she would understand due to the circumstances). Holding her wand as if it was a dagger, she advanced on Sirius, who stopped laughing quite so hard. Easily, he snatched her wand, stuck it behind his ear and grabbed her wrists, pinning them together. He snickered rather cruelly when she tried in vain to escape. She began to screech (forgetting that it was uncouth) until Sirius gave her a little shake.

"Stop it," he ordered threateningly. He smirked. "Or I'll shove your head down a toilet."

Narcissa stopped it. She had spent an hour on her hair. Sirius knew her too well.

Stupid, uncouth boy.

Narcissa made one last attempt to escape, but Sirius held her fast (Usually, a seemingly effortless display of strength would have made her feel pleasantly sheltered and fragile, but as it was _him_ she felt only frustration and contempt.)

Stupid, _nasty_, uncouth, _idiot_ boy.

"Sir, don't mess up my hair," she pleaded, using the shortened form of his name to appeal to his better nature. Her cousin looked at her in disgust.

"You know what Narce?" he told her frankly, "You're nothing but a _puffed out, primped up, vain little chook_, did you know that?" He grinned at the appreciative chuckled of the Gryffindors.

Narcissa stared at him with a sort of mortified shock.

No.

No, he couldn't have.

He _did not_ just say that to her.

_Gasp._

He _did._

Narcissa, white with fury, widened her eyes, wrenched her hands from his grip, snatched her wand (put it in her bag) and prodded him on the chest with her dainty finger. "You just made your last mistake, Sirius Black," she told him, in a dangerously soft voice.

"Oooh, I'm scared," Sirius simpered sarcastically. "Beware of almighty Narcissa. What are you going to squirt at me this time, pumpkin juice?" There was a burst of chortling from the Gryffindors and (Narcissa suspected) Letitia Avery. Narcissa narrowed her eyes slowly and then suddenly pouted. "No, I'm telling on you!" she wailed, stamping her foot. All the students started hooting in laugher; Sirius, on the other hand, shook his head in wonder, almost with pity.

"Oh-ho! What's with all the racket?"

A large, round man with a massive moustache and thinning auburn hair came plodding down the hallway. Narcissa shot one triumphant look at her cousin and skipped over to him.

"Professor! Professor!"

He stopped abruptly, gazing down at the small blonde. "Yes?" he inquired amiably.

Mummy had said that it was very important to get a good impression with her professors (especially if she planned getting her marks through wit and charm instead of spending countless hours studying and writing, when she could be doing more profitable things, like gossiping, or doing her hair). "Hello," she said sweetly, giving him the same sickly smile she had given Mela earlier.

The professor smiled, thinking that this darling little girl had skipped up to him only to say good morning.

"Why, hello to you too," he greeted her pleasantly, placing his briefcase on the floor and putting his hand on his hip. "And who might you be?"

Narcissa paused, about to voice her complaint. She really _should_ introduce herself, she owed it to her Professor. It would be unkind of her to keep her identity from him – what if he became overwhelmed with her presence when calling the role? Better do it here, in the open.

"I'm Narcissa _Black_," Narcissa Black announced primly, and (figuring she may as well do it properly) she elegantly pinched the side of her robes, and sank into a curtsey. She grandly offered him her hand to kiss.

The potions master took it and shook it in a business like manner instead. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Black. My name is Horace Slughorn. Of course, you'll have to call me Professor Slughorn." He picked up his briefcase and continued his way down the hall to the classroom door, amid muffled giggles and sniggers.

Narcissa smiled smugly –Slughorn was pure, at least, why else would they make him head of Slytherin? – but stopped when she realised she hadn't told her professor what her nasty, uncouth cousin had said to her.

"Wait – Professor!" she called, running after him.

"Yes, Miss Black?" he asked cheerfully swiftly, unlocking the door to the potions room.

"Professor…" she said, pausing for dramatics. "I'm afraid there has been… an abomination against me." She held her head up high, as if what she had suffered was so terrible, and so tragic, it had made her a stronger and nobler person.

Slughorn looked at her indulgently. "And what was that?" he asked her,

"_He_," Narcissa announced, pointing haughtily at a now subdued looking Sirius, "Called me a –" (she closed her eyes, so as to help her through the ordeal of saying such a horrible, uncouth, and most importantly, _false_ statement) "– a chook."

There was a moment of silence as Slughorn regarded Sirius firmly.

"And what is you name, young man?" Slughorn asked.

Sirius looked up at him. "Sirius Black, Sir."

"Is he a relation of yours, Miss Black?" Professor Slughorn asked.

"Yes, my cousin unfortunately," Narcissa replied with disdain.

"I see," said Professor Slughorn again. He looked at Sirius sternly. "Are the allegations true, Mr Black? Did you call your cousin a chook?"

"No I did not, sir," Sirius replied, to the fury of Narcissa. "I in fact called Narcissa a _puffed out, primped up, vain little _chook. I, of course, now see the grievous offence to my insult."

Narcissa smiled smugly.

"Well, that is good, Mr Black," Slughorn replied, nodding at Sirius with approval.

"Yes sir," Sirius continued. "How _dare_ I insult such a noble beast as the chicken."

For a moment, Slughorn stared at Sirius. And then, he broke into mirth, laughing appreciatively, his waist coat buttons threatening to pop off at the strain. The rest of the class joined in.

"Oh-ho! We have a jokester in our midst!" Still chuckly, he patted the boy robustly on the shoulder. Sirius broke out into a grin. "Oh, I think we'll be getting on just fine, m'boy, just fine. What house are you in?"

"Gryffindor, Sir."

"Ah, shame, shame… Would have liked you in my own. A noble house and all, is Gryffindor, but still, what a shame…" And the professor waddled into the potions room, still chuckling at nasty Sirius' antics.

Narcissa's mouth was open in incredulous fury. Sirius had… got off? That uncouth little swine! And he had turned Professor Slughorn, into one of his… one of his uncouth _minions_! _Sirius was going to ruin her life!_

Furious her cousin had triumphed over her in this particular battle, Narcissa swirled on him, her grey eyes squinted tiny in her anger. "Oh Sirius, you're a beastly _git!_ I'm glad you aren't in Slytherin, _I hate you!_"

"Know what Narce, it's completely mutual, I hate you too!" Sirius shouted back.

Narcissa was appalled – it was one thing to be a muggle lover – another to _humiliate_ her – but to say _directly_ that he hated her? Nobody hated Narcissa, she was too pretty, and sweet, and couth to be hated! He was jealous, that's all, just because she was cute, and lovely and going to marry Lucius Malfoy and be everyone's friend and grow up to be incredibly rich and even more beautiful and live in a princess castle with a pet unicorn – ohhhh, he would pay, yes he would, he would pay dearly…

Wait till Bellatrix sorted him out. (If it wasn't uncouth, Narcissa would have cackled evilly, but as it was, she didn't.)

"Class?" Professor Slughorn called out. "You can come in, now."

"Hmmph!" Narcissa humphed at Sirius, and with one last lofty glare she flipped her hair and flounced into the classroom, towing Mela behind her forcefully, with a pincer like grip.

Behind her, (performing for all the first years) Sirius flipped his hair frivolously, twirled around to face the classroom door, jutted out a hip, planted his hand on it and strutted into the room, wiggling his bottom side to side as he went, in the midst of raucous laughter and wolf whistles. Sad thing was, it wasn't much of an exaggeration.

Narcissa, of course, was oblivious to all this. Her custom made personalised parchment, silver quills and green ink were already laid out neatly on her front row centre desk and she was looking up at the board with a calm expression of dignified arrogance.

After Professor Slughorn called out the role and a quick introduction to the subject of potions, he tapped the board with his wand; a set of ingredients appeared.

"Class, today, we'll be starting your potions career with a very simple concoction: A cure for boils. In pairs, you will be making – yes, Miss Black?"

"Sir, I don't think there's any reason for me to be making this potion. I'm afraid it would be a waste of time."

The professor looked down at her, with a polite expression of mild curiosity. "And why is that, Miss Black?"

"Well," Narcissa began airily, "I don't _get_ boils, you see. I think it's because I'm too pretty." (Sirius, in the back row of the classroom, pointed a finger down his mouth and made a loud retching noise.) "Besides, I've decided that I won't ever get pimples, or boils or warts or anything nasty like that, because it just isn't flattering for one's complexion. So that potion would be completely useless to me."

"Indeed?" Professor Slughorn replied, his moustache twitching. He ignored the retching and sniggering. "Well, Miss Black, let's just say, for argument's sake, that I put the cure for boils on your test. It wouldn't be very good if you didn't know the answers, would it? That's why I'd like you to complete it for me, just in case."

Narcissa frowned. If he put it that way…

"Well that's settled," Professor Slughorn said pleasantly, smiling at them all. "Now, the ingredients are on the board, but I'll read them out and show you a sample of the respective substance, for the sake of our new muggle born students, who might find some ingredients a little strange and surprising!" He beamed at the grateful expressions on some of the first-years' faces.

"Now, we will need a bunch of dried nettles… one pinch of crushed snake's fang… four horned slugs… half a dozen porcupine quills… one sachet of flobberworm dung –"

"Professor Slughorn?"

"Yes Miss Black?"

"My mummy says that dung is a very rude and uncouth word. Wouldn't it be more polite to say excrement?"

Professor Slughorn blinked, his smile faltering a little, but he hitched it right up again.

"Yes, I suppose it would be," he admitted fairly, and with a flick of his wand 'dung' turned into 'excrement'. Before he even had a chance to open his mouth, Narcissa's hand was in the air again.

"Yes, Miss Black?" he asked, with a somewhat forced patience.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but my mummy says I'm not to touch excrement. It's uncouth."

* * *

**A/N** Aaaaand that's the end. In case you're wondering, I used the word and all words stemming from 'couth' 33 times…

Now show Miss Black the respect she so justly deserves and review.


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